Liar
by DreamingIce
Summary: Looking back, she can't believe how naïve she was. Annie's reflections of Guy of Gisborne. Implied AnnieGuy. One sided GuyMarian alluded to. From season 1, episode 4: 'Parent Hood'


**Title: **Liar  
**Notes: **Because Annie is way overlooked. And I feel sorry for her, being so caught up in Gisborne's deceit. And I feel sorry for Seth, too. Imagine learning your father left you to die in a forest while telling your mother that he was taking you to an Abbey. Ouch. Oh, and I can't see how Marian, who must have realised who Seth's father was, can still defend Gisborne.  
**Disclaimer: **Not mine.

Enjoy.

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Looking back, Annie can't believe how naïve she was. It was no wonder Gisborne pursued her, he knew that it wouldn't take him much effort for him to have her twisted around his little finger. All he had to do was smile disarmingly at her, blue eyes penetrating her soul, and spout a few pretty sounding lies and she would bend over backwards to please him.

She wilfully ignored the other sides of him, justifying to herself that he had to show a façade to the sheriff and the public at large. He had to show the rouges he meant business. All evidence to the contrary was dismissed in her mind: the skitterish glances of other servants and townsfolk and the fear in their eyes when they laid their eyes on him; his violent temper; his eagerness to follow the sheriff's schemes; his dogged pursuit of Lady Marian. He could make her forget it all with the whispered words hot against her neck, "Were you not a servant, I would make you _mine._"

The pregnancy had come as a shock to Annie. At least she was lucky in the sense that she wasn't very ill with it, and nor did she show til late in the pregnancy. Guy's response to the news had also been one of shock, but now, in hindsight, she can recognise the other emotions that flashed across his face for what they were: disgust for her, anger that she let this happen, shame that he'd been caught out. Maybe even some fear about the fact that he would have to deal with the consequences, even.

But she didn't see that then.

She'd automatically assumed that she would protect her, and their unborn child. Surely _no _parent would _not_ look out for the interests of their own child.

So after the babe was born, she didn't question his statement that he would take the boy to the Abbey of Kirklees for him to be raised there. She simply dressed her son—Seth, she named him, after her long-dead brother—and handed him to Gisborne, trusting him to take care of their son.

The first real stirrings of fear and suspicion didn't appear until she'd been ordered to take food to the dungeons. Guy was there—she hadn't expected him to get to the Abbey and back again so quickly—and he wouldn't answer her questions. He just looked straight past her. Moving to give the prisoner his food, she'd wished that someone else had been sent. The talk between herself and the prisoner disturbed her. More than she wanted to admit. The extensive bruising the prisoner showed her wouldn't leave her mind; was he really capable of that? But still, she defended Guy. She said more than she meant to about Seth that first time, and she found it odd that kept asking her about him when she returned later. Asking what his name was, describing the velvet shawl she'd wrapped him in.

That had worried her, as had the prisoner's vague non-answer to her questioning of whether he'd met Seth on the way to the Abbey. But she couldn't ask any further questions, not with Guy approaching from behind. She'd retreated back to the kitchens apprehensive and threw herself into her work.

It wasn't until the following morning when a tall outlaw with blonde hair and blue eyes showed up in the kitchen that her fears—which she had been trying desperately to ignore—were realised as the outlaw handed her part of Seth's outfit.

Gisborne had lied to her. He never took the Seth to Kirklees. He never intended to. It wouldn't have been good for him to knowingly let his bastard son live. Instead, he'd left the child in the middle of Sherwood Forest. Alone. It was pure luck that led Robin Hood's men to that spot, that they'd found Seth. The prisoner's obvious interest in her and her son made sense, as did the almost pitying look he'd given her as she'd left.

This new outlaw, Allan he said his name was, assured her that Seth was fine, but that didn't stop the rage pounding through her. She'd trusted Guy of Gisborne. And he'd betrayed that trust in every sense.

She wasn't sure what really drove her to pick up that knife and storm off, although she remembers the look on the outlaw's face being one of terror, looking between her murderous face and the decently sized knife in her hands before bolting. She wanted satisfaction out of Gisborne, and she had briefly enjoyed that power she had, holding the knife to his throat, screaming her pain and fury to everyone gathered. She should have expected that Gisborne would knock her down, but even then, the thought of Guy striking her was one that she'd comprehended. She'd felt the punch to her arm, and seen the blade spinning away and then all she knew was Gisborne hitting her, kicking her. It hadn't lasted long in reality, but to her it seemed a long time before he was pulled away and the same outlaw who'd talked to her earlier had helped her up, leading her to the gate.

The prisoner, Roy she'd found out later, sacrificed himself for all of them. Annie later found out that it was because of him that Robin Hood's men had known how to find her, and she prayed for him around the fire that night. That his soul would get the peace it deserved.

Now she was on her way out of Nottinghamshire, with no intentions of returning. Lady Marian had helped her to find a job elsewhere, in a place where she could care for her son—she refused to acknowledge that Gisborne was the father anymore—and a place where they would both be safe. Looking back at Lady Marian, now talking softly with Robin Hood, Annie pities her. She used to feel threatened by the woman; Gisborne's efforts to seek her attention hadn't gone unnoticed by Annie. But now, she really could see the compassionate woman that she was, and felt sorry for her that she had Gisborne's attentions.

After turning back to the front, she opened the small bag that the youngest outlaw, a dark-haired lad, and given her, smiling in amusement as she pulled out a small bow and quiver filled with little arrows. She hadn't smiled in what felt like a long time. Looking down at her son again, she didn't think it would be a hard thing to keep up.

**Fin.**

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